


Glory

by Moonshine84



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Explicit Sexual Content, First Time, Glory Hole, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Sibling Incest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-16
Updated: 2012-08-16
Packaged: 2017-11-12 06:43:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 10,201
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/487877
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Moonshine84/pseuds/Moonshine84
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean has a need, an addiction.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Another hunt, a fresh set of bruises; the pressure was building, he could feel the need growing. He tried to hide it, couldn’t let his brother see, but he knew he couldn’t hold out much longer. Something had to give and that something would be him.

He’s snipping at Sam now, snide little remarks about nothing; his hair, his clothes, the way he takes his frou-frou coffee. Can’t take anymore, Dean knows he has to stop soon or Sam will start asking questions, he’ll start to see how Dean is ready to crawl out of his skin.

They are currently in California, nowhere near Palo Alto, wouldn’t do that to Sam; all Dean has to do is find a town big enough to have what he needs and convince his brother they need to stop for a few days. Get some rest, replenish their cash reserves, take some time out of the hunt to relax; never tell him what he really needs it for. Sam more than ready to agree to anything that gives his legs time to stretch out from the abuse of too much time in the Impala, that might get him closer to a library that consists of more than just family histories, and music that has been popular for two months, not two decades.

Find another university town instead, Davis, CA; never having been here before, Dean has to ask around to find what he needs. Have to be careful though, this is still not a big city where this kind of thing is ignored if not condoned; can’t risk being jumped and having to explain to Sam where the bruises came from. Finally he sees a cryptic sign pinned to a public notice board; armed with the information he needs to cure the pressure, Dean decides to return to Sam and go out tomorrow. One more day.

************

“I’m going out, Sam. Don’t be surprised if I’m out all day,” he winks as he walks out the door of their motel room. Classic Dean, Sam just flips him off as he turns back to his computer.

Finally, Dean can get what he’s been wanting for weeks now; the need has begun to consume his thoughts at the most inappropriate of times. Walking to where he needs to be; can’t take the car, won’t risk leaving it in such a place and there’s always the possibility that it will be recognised.

And he’s here, an art-house theatre stuffed between an Asian market and a fast food place. Inside now, low lighting trying to cover up the faded carpet and dingy paintwork, gilt edges on once beautiful paintings flaking off to stick to the shoes of the unsuspecting. Dean takes all this in, it’s nothing new, and even an improvement on some of the places he and his brother have stayed. Not really interested in the décor though, he’s here for one thing only. 

Moving slowly around the stained carpet, keeping an eye on the bored ticket clerk and equally unimpressed candy-bar girl, Dean makes his way to the restrooms just to the left of the door. Trying to appear casual, his usual demeanour in place instead of looking like a tweaker jonesing for his next fix, Dean pushes the door open for the men’s room. A quick glance telling him that it’s empty; moving to the last stall, locking himself in, hoping it won’t be long, Dean waits.

************

Dean comes out of his thoughts at the slight creak as the door of the restroom opens, hears footsteps move hesitantly across the room to the stall next to his. No sound from the other, breathing loud in the enhanced quiet of the fluorescent lights, then a noise. Two taps on the flimsy wood separating the cubicles, right next to a hole marring the integrity of the barrier; a signal, a question. Dean’s answer comes almost too quickly, swift enough to be embarrassing if he knew the other but that’s partly the point; two return taps to acknowledge the question then a quick wiggle of finger through the hole in answer. A sharp intake of breath from the other man then a jangle of metal as a buckle is undone, a rasp of leather as it is dragged through a clasp and the unmistakable sound of a zipper being pulled. Dean, salivating at the thought of what is on the other side of the partition, follows suit, pants open where he has knelt on the floor to peek through the hole, the tiniest glimpse of what he wants teasing his senses. 

Waiting now, cock in hand, waiting for his companion to push through the hole, to give him his addiction. There is an edge to the air in this dirty little restroom, one waiting, the other choosing whether to trust such an intimate and vulnerable part of himself to a stranger. But that’s what this is about; complete anonymity, complete control, complete submission.

The tip of a penis pushing through the hole now, flushed, fluid seeping from the slit proof of the other’s need; Dean moves forward quickly, mouth open, enveloping the flesh and moaning softly as more is pushed past his so very willing lips. Deep in his throat now, almost too deep…almost. One palm braced flat on the wall of the cubicle, the other curled around his own cock, stroking in time with the thrusts of hard flesh into his mouth; Dean tips his head back just a little more, just enough for the other to push deeper than before, into the depths of his throat, muscles working hard. Deep breath pulled into his lungs as the cock is pulled out, tip resting on his lower lip, Dean’s tongue flicks out to taste causing a harsh groan from the other side of the wall; warm fluid, salty with another flavour he can’t place but that he needs more of.  
They have a name for this, he’s sure; some long fancy word. He could look it up if he really wanted to or maybe Sam could tell him, if Dean were ever stupid enough to let him find out. That thought has him moaning softly, sucking the cock back into the heat of his mouth as he fists his own harder; close now, wanting to finish. Grunts and moans from the other side let Dean know the other man is close too; sucking hard then pulling off, free hand fisting around the hard cock to finish him. An indistinguishable cry signals the flow of hot semen over his hand, the sensation causing a cascade in Dean; heat flowing from the base of his spine down his cock to spurt in creamy flows over his fingers.  
Finished now, protocol demands he wait for the other to leave; the sounds of clothing being rearranged, a sharp tap on the wall from the other side then the click of a lock turning and footsteps leaving the room. Sparks of pleasure fire randomly throughout Dean’s body, signalling that the need has been filled; that the addiction has been met, for now. Time to go back, back to Sammy, back to his life.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was meant to be a bit of Dean PWP goodness... then the damn thing mutated. Enjoy.

Another city, it’s only been weeks since he last did this; weeks of hunting, almost losing, weeks of sharing motel rooms with his brother, meaningless one-night stands with faceless women, and the friction of his own hand. The need has built again, far quicker now, pulsing in his blood; the need to be used, to have someone just take what he would so willingly give to the one person he never can; Sam can never know.

Dean knows where to go in this city, no need to ask around, no need to hope he has the right place; just a quick lie to Sam saying he has an errand to run then he’s gone. 

************

Another dodgy building, a café doubling as a bookstore this time, restrooms down the back, only three cubicles in here, still the same addictive hole in the wall though; Dean makes his way to the last stall, always the last stall preferring to have a wall at his back and a clear path to the door, even if he is on his knees.  
Won’t have to wait long here, there was always a relatively steady stream of men coming in to have their pleasure anonymously; one of the things Dean loves about this place, it meant Dad didn’t really have the time to notice he was missing, let alone ask where he was or what he was doing. Or should that be who? Dean smirks slightly to himself sitting on the closed toilet lid, waiting for his pleasure to come to him, fingers tapping a Metallica tune out on his thigh.

************

The hollow sound of shoes on the hardwood floor outside the room has Dean shifting slightly in his seat, the slight creak of the door next to his cubicle opening and the thud of its closing has his mouth watering as he waits for the invitation, the tap on the wood. Stillness as the man in the other stall breathes quietly, Dean unconsciously matching him; then a noise breaks the balance, a sharp rap of knuckles on flimsy plywood echoing in the room to be followed by another. Dean responds quickly; return tap on the wood then the crook of a finger through the hole. Noises of cloth being pushed aside and a quickening of audible breath causes Dean to slide from the seat to kneel on the harshness of the tiled floor; physical discomfort barely registering as the wait for that perfect hit, keeps his focus from anything but that beautiful hole in the wall; his glory hole, pathway to heaven.  
Stillness in the air as Dean waits for the other man to bare himself to his gaze, his tongue; then movement visible through the portal causes Dean to reach for his own pants, eager to get himself out, knowing he won’t be co-ordinated enough in a minute to do it. First visible is the red, slick head, then the length of hard flesh is pushed slowly through the hole to be engulfed by Dean’s mouth; taken in all the way in one smooth movement, soundtrack provided oh so willingly by the deep groans reverberating in the tiny room. Pulling back now, wet tongue brushing a strip up from root to tip, teasing under the head, moving to dip into the slit to collect the offering of fluid; a pause as Dean considers the taste, catalogues it, recognises it as familiar then discards the thought to concentrate on the matter in hand. Moaning from both men as Dean wraps one hand around the erection on his side of the wall and sucks gently on the head at the same time as he slides his other hand around his own straining hardness. Removing the hand holding the cock in front of him, Dean slides his mouth further down the hot flesh, forcing it deeper into his throat, pressing his nose against the barrier separating the stalls, warmed by the friction of movement, he waits for his companion to withdraw and thrust back in. Hand moving faster on his own cock, Dean knows he doesn’t have long before his own orgasm overwhelms him; he sucks harder, taking more into his mouth, desperate for the hot rush of fluid. Heavy sounds of a body hitting the wall and the vibrations of the plywood moving cause Dean to moan around the cock being thrust faster between his lips, the sound rippling out along the flesh to drag an equally desperate noise from its owner. No longer trying to suck with any finesse, just allowing his mouth to be used, Dean fists his cock roughly, waiting for the taste, balanced so precariously on the edge of an abyss, needing it to send him keening over. Then a millisecond of stillness and an absence of sound right before his mouth is flooded with the salty offering from the man on the other side of the wall; the strong sense of déjà vu being swept aside as the taste sends his own orgasm crashing through his senses. 

Harsh breathing breaks the silence as both men struggle to calm their senses; Dean trying to hold the feeling he has had throughout this whole experience, that he knows that taste, there is something so disturbingly familiar about it. He stays kneeling on the floor in the hopes that the other man will want to play again, will allow Dean another taste of that addictive nectar, knowing it unlikely but wanting it so bad. The sounds of clothing being rearranged and pulled back into respectability kills the hope he will get another chance; Dean almost considers breaking the unspoken rules of these places and peeking at the man as he leaves. 

************

Waiting a respectable amount of time after the noise of the door being opened and closed has finished echoing in the room, Dean picks himself up off the floor and puts his own clothing back into place; feeling he has just made things so much worse for himself, that the need will be stronger now, that the desire to taste will be forever overlaid with the sense memory of this afternoon. Something in his heart telling him he will hope for that special flavour every time he gets on his knees for a long time to come; wondering if he comes back tomorrow if the other man will be here, if Dean can get another taste before he has to leave town, knowing Sam will start to question where he goes if he stays away from the room for two whole afternoons in a row. Limbs heavy, feeling weighed down, Dean leaves the restroom and makes his way into the bookstore; maybe he can find some pretty little store clerk to flirt with to make himself feel better.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just a little bit of brotherly time.

A few weeks have passed since his little epiphany, Dean has felt the desire to get on his knees almost every day but the hunt has been so intense lately there has been no time to get away, everything has revolved around driving, researching, hunting or sleeping. He’s starting to get distracted at the oddest moments now, remembering that taste, the feel of the cock being pushed forcefully into his mouth; Dean makes a soft sound at the memory.  
“Dude, you alright?”  
Oh shit. Dean starts in the driver’s seat of the Impala and shifts his focus from the road to his brother for a split second, just long enough to see the concerned expression on Sam’s face. “I’m fine, Sam,” replies Dean, trying desperately to think of an excuse for the noise, “Just thinking about lunch.” Smirking slightly, crisis averted, Dean refocuses his attention to the road and adamantly tells his suddenly interested cock that it won’t be getting what it wants anytime soon; middle-of-nowhere America is not the best place to find a glory hole and another willing participant.  
“You’re sure?” Sam must have noticed the vacant expression, though he would probably say that was normal for Dean.  
“I said, didn’t I,” defensive now, Dean knows he has to move Sam’s attention off himself, “Keep your eyes out for somewhere that looks good.”  
“You mean greasy and waiting to deep-fry you in your sleep,” returns Sam.  
“You know it, Bitch.”  
“Jerk.”  
Smiling, the brothers turn their attention to locating lunch.

************

Firmly seated on opposite sides of a cracked and faded table, Dean has returned to his earlier thoughts, unmindful of the fact that the waitress has come and both she and Sam are waiting for him to order.  
A sharp kick under the table causes Dean to jerk upright; noticing the washed-out woman standing at the table, Dean blinks and orders the special and coffee. The faded blonde nods and walks away while Sam stares at Dean.  
“What Sam?” Dean is too tired and distracted to deal with his brother’s emo crap.  
“What’s up with you?” Small frown marring his features, Sam studies Dean, leaning forward into his space a little.  
“Not this again,” Dean grumbles and runs his hand through his hair, “I said I was fine, Sam.”  
“But you’re not, Dean,” Sam counters, “You’re distracted and you didn’t even notice the waitress. I’m worried about you.” Silence as Dean glares at his dining companion. “When was the last time you got laid?”  
“What!” Explosion of movement as Dean shifts upward in his seat, glaring at Sam, not believing he would ask that, especially in public.  
“Well,” starts Sam, turning slightly pink and making Dean feel a little better, “Like I said, you’ve been distracted and twitchy. I’m worried.”  
“So your solution is it must be sex?” Dean conveniently forgets that the reason he has been distracted enough for Sam to notice actually is sex.  
“We’ve spent every moment together for the last month, Dean,” slightly defensive posture from Sam, trying to explain his reasoning, “If we haven’t been hunting, we’ve been sleeping. Not much time for…other activities.” Sam goes even redder, making Dean smirk, “I’m just saying, maybe we should stop somewhere for a few days and get our bearings back, get some rest.”  
“Get some sex, you mean,” full blown blush from Sam at this, Dean’s smirk widening to a grin. Sorry Sammy, have to be the Big Brother and take advantage of the situation. Dean blinks at his own thought and tries to push the images that his mind so helpfully supplies out of his head. Can’t go there.   
“God, you’re such an asshole.” A pissy Sam is a distracted Sam so Dean feels he has accomplished his goal. “We’re not that far from Davis, you remember, we were there a couple of months ago taking a break. We both got some decent rest; we could head back that way for a few days.”  
“Sam,” Dean takes a closer look at Sam as the waitress drops their food at the table, notices that maybe he needs a couple days free from the hunt too; that maybe Dean isn’t the only one with needs. Stemming the rush of jealousy that thought causes, Dean considers as he sips his coffee, “Yeah, okay. We’ll head that way and see what we come across on the drive.”   
Sam smiles brightly at that, happy he can do something for Dean, “Okay, good.” Sam reaches for his own food now a consensus has been reached; content, Dean looks a little better for the conversation.


	4. Chapter 4

Back in Davis, California again, it feels strange to Dean to be somewhere even slightly familiar so soon after leaving; used to the anonymity of the parade of small towns he and Sam usually go through, it can take months before they circle back to somewhere they’ve been before, if they ever do.

Different motel than the last time, same side of town though so he’s not that far from the theatre where he knows he can get what he wants; Dean chooses to put Sam’s mind at ease first and they go out to a bar. He spends most of the night hustling the students; shearing the flock, Dean calls it. Sam calls it survival; he’s never been truly comfortable doing it himself, but he can watch Dean do it for hours, it’s like being in the shadow of a master seeing the way he can work a table.   
They have enough money to last them for a few months now if they are careful and Dean is creative with the credit cards, time to finish up and head back to the room; Dean has a busy day tomorrow.

************

Dean is nearly vibrating with badly concealed need by the time he has done his morning routine, showered, eaten and convinced Sam that he is going out alone for the day. At least he doesn’t have to find the place this time, he knows exactly where to go to feed his addicted soul.

Back to the art-house theatre between the Asian market and the greasy diner; the same bad paintwork, same disinterested looking employees, same paintings with the flaking gilt edges. Have to remember to clean my shoes before I hit the motel, Dean remembers trekking the speckled pieces of gold edge throughout their motel room last time he was here.

Dean moves easily across the stained red carpet to the restrooms, confident, cock-sure, no one would know he was here to get on his knees for a complete stranger. Entering the badly lit room, Dean sees he is not alone; another man is washing his hands, he barely looks up as Dean goes to the last stall and locks himself in. Dean plays with his belt buckle, pretending he’s here for the same reason the other man was until he hears footsteps across the tile and the door banging shut. Leaving his belt undone, no need to bother putting himself back together til after he has what he came for; Dean sits on the closed lid to wait.

************

Not too long after he has settled, the sound of the main door opening and footsteps crossing the tiled floor causes Dean to pay conscious attention to his surroundings; always aware in some way of what is going on around him, he has developed a method of filtering out anything that doesn’t really pertain to him.

Listening closer to the sounds, Dean realises that this one is for him, that the footsteps are heading to the stall next to his; the noise of the door hitting the frame lightly as it closes and the lock clicking into place confirm it. Noises from the next cubicle indicate someone just standing, breathing, not really doing anything; then the sharp rap of knuckles on wood. Dean perks up even further when he knows that this person is here to give him what he needs; dropping to his knees and knocking quickly back, he crooks a finger through the hole in an invitation to sin. A harsh gasp from the other man and the rasp of a zipper being lowered prove acceptance and Dean feels his mouth watering; preparation for the act to follow. Breathing harshly, Dean waits for the other man to start, waits for that perfect moment when he gets his first glimpse of the cock, when it peeks through the hole in the wall; almost winking at him, tempting him to sin. He isn’t made to wait long as the flushed and weeping head is pushed through the halo of wood only to be caught by the moist heat of his mouth closing over the tip. Dean pauses, cock resting heavy on his tongue as the other man pushes further into his open mouth; the fluid hitting his tastebuds has sparked a memory, the last time he did this. Oh god, it’s the same guy. A deep groan from Dean as he realises he is about to get another taste of that beautiful nectar; that overwhelmingly amazing flavour that just the memory of has fuelled his private fantasies for weeks. He starts to actively suck now he knows what delicacy he will get at the finish, mouth moving down the length, tongue brushing on the way back up, swirling around the head to collect every drop of fluid that seeps out, savouring the harsh moans filling the room. Humming softly in the back of his throat, Dean moves his mouth down until the tip of his nose is brushing the flimsy board separating them, then he stops. Deep breathing from the other man as he waits for Dean to move again then a reverberating groan as he realises what Dean is waiting for; for him to take. The thick length inside his mouth is withdrawn slowly then slid back in, veins scraping over rough flesh until the very tip is brushing the back of Dean’s throat; he swallows around the obstruction causing a renewal of sound from his companion. The cock is pulled back again then returned faster than before; the sounds of harsh breathing and the wet slide of flesh into flesh providing the soundtrack to this scene.   
Dean braces himself against the wall with one hand while the other reaches into his opened pants and pulls his neglected cock from its denim confines; hand moving quickly, he knows he doesn’t have long before he explodes, he’s been ready since he recognised the taste. An escalation in noise and the rapid movement of the cock abusing his willing mouth lets him know that he won’t be alone when he comes. Moaning softly at the thought of being allowed more of that needed flavour, Dean hollows his cheeks and sucks hard at the flesh invading his mouth; a yelp from his companion is the only warning Dean receives before his mouth is flooded with hot fluid. Swallowing all he can, Dean groans as the fireworks of pleasure going off behind his closed eyelids precipitate his own orgasm.

Coming down, random nerves firing signals of warm sex good throughout his body, Dean finds he is leaning heavily on the partition separating the cubicles, harsh breathing echoing in the tiled room. He hears the soft tap on the wood and the click of the lock being turned before he realises that the other man has dressed while he was savouring his high; indecision hits Dean as he struggles to obey the rules of these illicit places, the need for anonymity warring with the need to see. A lifetime of obeying rules that the rest of society could never understand makes his mind up for him and he stays slumped on the floor, waiting for the room to still into silence before he drags himself up to clean up the mess and fix his appearance. “Look like a goddamn junkie after a fix,” Dean utters to his reflection as he washes his hands in the sink. Can’t go back to Sam looking like this, may as well go spend some hard earned money. Dean smirks at his reflection, mask firmly back in place, before he saunters out to find a bar. Have to remember to clean my boots.

************

Back out in the world, boots cleaned and feeling better than he has in weeks, Dean acknowledges one thing, Sam was right, he needed to get laid; just not in the way Sam probably thought. Smirking, he decides to give Sam a touch of his own advice, all he needs is to get Sam tipsy, then get him back to the room, maybe a nice college girl will get him off Dean’s back; not a blonde though, maybe a redhead. Chuckling softly to himself, Dean goes in search of Sam at the music store down the block from the motel where he is trying desperately to find cassette tapes that don’t have hair music.


	5. Chapter 5

Stepping into the motel room after checking in with Sam and leaving him to lose himself in a library, Dean’s gaze is drawn to the musty beige carpet; gold flecks sparkle accusingly at him from amidst the fibres, remnants of the theatre’s decor. I cleaned my boots, I know I did. A pause as his mind catches up with what his eyes are seeing. It’s not from me. Then it hits him. Jesus, it has to be from Sam. How? He had to have gone into the theatre. What if he followed me? What if he knows? Panic setting in causes Dean’s breathing to speed up and his hands to get clammy before he realises that he just spent the last hour with Sam and he wasn’t acting any differently than when they woke up this morning. 

Now Dean may pretend to be a little dull in the cerebral areas but he has a brain; someone had to help Sam with all that geek-boy homework after all. But this, what this means, takes a little longer to filter through than most things. Rational hunter’s mind taking over, Dean calms himself as the reality of the situation sets in. The flecks in the carpet are from the theatre and I know they aren’t from me. Sam isn’t acting any different than normal, he’s even been in a slightly better mood since we decided to stop here. It has been the same guy at the glory hole the last three times I’ve been; I know that taste, there’s no way to mistake it. That means the man has either followed me or…Dean’s mind skitters away from the implications of that last thought; a long held desire not something he can ever believe he will be allowed in this life, even if by accident. Ask Sam some questions, Dean decides, Ask him what he did today. See what he says; what he doesn’t say. Mind made up, Dean decides to shower before Sam gets back to the room, the idea of being nakedly vulnerable around Sam more than he can take right now. Couldn’t have been Sam, he’s straight and he would never use something so anonymous as a glory hole for sex; he’s too touchy-feely. Trying to convince himself that he must be wrong, Dean strips and lets the heat of the water sluicing over his smooth muscles drag the tension from his body.

************

“Hey, Sam,” fully dressed and playing at watching a show on the T.V., Dean greets his brother as he walks back into their shared motel room. Eyes assessing Sam, Dean notes that his brother is still as relaxed as when he saw him earlier; and that his boots are leaving tiny golden flecks in the musty carpet as he walks across the room to drop onto the other bed. “What did you get up to today, besides ruining all that good music I’ve been feeding you?” Dean smirks at the look he gets, desperation to hear the answer hidden by years of experience.  
“Just went to the library,” says Sam, “They have a really good occult section here, must be all the college wannabes checking them out.”  
“Didn’t go anywhere else, Sammy?”  
“I already said, Dean,” exasperation and something else colouring his tone, “No, I didn’t go anywhere else. Why all the questions?”  
“Just thinking,” replies Dean, then a wicked look comes over his face, “We really need to get you out more, little brother; you’re starting to resemble a monk.”  
His brother flipping him a rude gesture as he gets up and goes into the room’s tiny bathroom is his only answer.

Dean swallows harshly, all teasing gone from his countenance now that Sam is gone from the room. He lied. Not that it has to mean anything. But he got defensive when I asked him, supplies another part of his brain. He’s allowed to do stuff by himself, counters another part. Jesus, Dean. You’re arguing with yourself over this. It’s obvious that he did something today that he doesn’t want you to know about. The flecks coming off his shoes are pretty damning evidence though. A pause in his mental conversation as Dean runs through everything he knows or thinks he does. Could always say I have somewhere to be and follow him tomorrow, see what he does. A twisting in his gut at the thought of Sam actually going to a glory hole and getting his pleasure from someone else causes a growl of jealousy to rumble past his lips. Could I stand there and listen to someone else taking him in if that is what he’s doing? The deep surge of heat that races from the pit of his body assures him that if Sam does go to the theatre, Dean will not be willing or able to just stand back. Jump off that bridge when I get to it, thinks Dean, knowing that he has come to a decision.  
“Dude, you even listening to me?” A yelp from Dean as he scrambles back on the bed, not even realising Sam has come back into the room. A wicked look on his face as he realises he has caught the ever vigilant Dean unawares, Sam repeats himself. “I asked if you want to get something to eat.”  
Glaring at his smirking brother, Dean nods. Tomorrow, his mind whispers as they leave the room and find a diner.


	6. Chapter 6

Up bright and early the next day, Dean fakes his way through breakfast at a diner and lies his way past what he plans on doing for the day. He must have gotten good at it or Sam must be distracted because he doesn’t even get one of his brother’s patented pissy looks when he implies that he’s spending the rest of his day with someone else. Nervousness at what he hopes he doesn’t see today and slight wistfulness that maybe he was right, Dean never does finish his breakfast before he leaves the diner and hides at a shop across the street that has a perfect view of the exit Sam will have to take.

He only has to wait a few minutes before the lanky image of his brother moves past the window of the diner and out into the street; denim-covered legs moving fast and long-sleeved arms swinging, Sam gets around the block fast. Dean quickly moves out of the shop and follows in the direction Sam has gone; catching up close enough that he can see the younger man but not close enough that Sam should be able to see him or feel him. Walking for about an hour, covertly watching Sam walk into dozens of bookstores and spending long minutes sure his brother has seen him, Dean almost decides that he must be an idiot; right before Sam takes off down the street like a hell-hound is on his ass. 

Watching the way Sam’s body moves as he dodges through the crowded streets, Dean takes a moment in his head to bemoan the fact that Sam favours long shirts and loose jeans before it hits him that they’re starting to head in the direction of the theatre.   
Shit, please let him be going past; let him be going somewhere else, not there. Realising that they are on the same block as the theatre and seeing the determination and direction of Sam’s steps, Dean makes a decision. Quickly ducking into a back street, he runs down an alley that sits behind the theatre and ducks into the back entrance. God, what are you doing? Moving across the faded carpet, heading for the restrooms. Are you really ready to take Sam knowing that it’s him in your mouth and not just wishing it is? Apparently the answer is yes as Dean finds himself back in the familiar toilets, heading for the end stall and sitting on the closed lid.   
A few minutes of waiting and no Sam has Dean thinking that maybe he has over-reacted and that Sam was just going to one of the many bookstores in the area but the creak of the door and the familiar sound of footsteps on the tile cuts that hope short. God, such familiar footsteps, I really ignored this until a blind man could see it, didn’t I? Berating himself for the knowledge that his mind has kept his conscious self in the dark, Dean misses the sound of the door in the next cubicle opening and locking; is startled almost to jumping off the seat when the sound of a knock echoes through the enclosed space.

Oh God, Oh God. I’m not sure I can do this. It feels like I’m taking advantage of him. But to taste him again; that amazing ambrosia. Decision made; Dean slides off the seat and to his knees in front of the hole in time to hear knuckles hitting the wood one more time. Crooking his finger through the hole in an invitation to play, Dean moves his hands to his own clothes as the sound of moving fabric emerges from the other stall. Rock hard and already weeping, Dean’s cock is flushed red and heavy in his hand as he pulls it from his pants; actually knowing it’s Sam on the other side of the hole destroying whatever semblance of control he normally has while doing this.

Come on, Sammy, every part of Dean focused on that cut out of wood like it holds the key to the universe as he waits for Sam to place himself in, Give your big brother what he needs. The tip of the other man’s penis breaching the hole and sliding into view shuts down the running monologue inside Dean’s head and that first taste of the fluid weeping from the slit has Dean moaning in his throat and ready to come before he’s even got it completely in his mouth. Swirling his tongue around the head again, Dean collects as much as he can to taste, listening avidly to the pleasured noises coming from beyond the wall. Groaning softly, knowing that it’s Sam he’s making feel this good, Dean sucks the head into his mouth and slides down the length of hot flesh until his nose bumps the wood; then he waits. A pause that seems to last a lifetime as Dean just breathes around the cock weighing heavy on his tongue before a deep rumbling moan reverberates around the room and the slick flesh is removed only to be brought back in a smooth slide deep into Dean’s throat. Feeling his own control slipping, his impending orgasm already starting to curl around the edges of his vision; Dean waits for another pull and deep push before humming in his throat, causing a shout to emerge from his companion. Actively sucking and flicking his tongue against the head as it is withdrawn, Dean tries to get Sam to come before he loses his mind in the rapture of the taste flooding his mouth.   
Fisting his hand around his own cock, feeling the extra friction adding to the already overwhelming sensations bombarding him, Dean sucks Sam deep into his mouth and gives a vibrating moan; the sound of a fist hitting the wall telling him he has achieved his goal mere milliseconds before his mouth is flooded with hot, salty ecstasy and his mind whites-out from his own orgasm.

************

Coming back down from such an intense orgasm is always difficult but coming down and knowing he has to face Sam when he gets back to the motel with his taste fresh in his mouth is almost more than he can stand. The sharp rap of knuckles on the wooden partition and a door opening pulls Dean from his reverie as he realises that Sam has already put himself back together and is leaving.   
God, how did I think this was a good idea? I have to look him in the eyes soon and pretend that nothing is different; that I don’t know what he tastes like. A groan of a different kind emerges from Dean as he acknowledges that his dick may have done the thinking once again. Let’s just get up off the floor of this seedy place first; put my cock back in and make it look like I didn’t just ruin my relationship with the only family I have. Something resembling a plan in place, Dean picks himself up, puts himself back together and emerges from the stall to see his shell-shocked reflection staring back at him from the grimy mirror. Story of my life; looking through dirty glass to the other side. Ignoring his reflection, deciding he looks presentable enough to hit the street, Dean pauses as he wonders where exactly he can go. Two choices, Deanno; walk around for a bit then head back or go back now and hope Sam decided to go for a walk after you sucked his fillings out through his cock. Grimacing at the reminder of what he has just done, and the fact that his cock is apparently very interesting in doing it again, Dean chooses the long road and walks out of the room.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And now things get *really* interesting

Reaching the motel room close to dark, noticing the lights are off and deciding that Sam must not be back yet, Dean breathes a sigh of relief as he unlocks the door; right before he is pushed face first into the wall and held tight.

“What the fuck?” Almost yelping as he struggles against the hands holding him like steel, Dean feels fear rising in his gut as a pair of handcuffs is snapped around his wrists.  
“Relax, Dean,” warm breath against his ear; Sam’s voice in the dark.  
“Sammy?” Fear still flicking in his belly, Dean stops struggling, “What the fuck’s going on? Let me go, dude.”  
“I don’t think so, bro,” says Sam in his ear. Dean flinches as Sam reaches for the switch next to the door and light floods the room.  
Turning quickly, realising that Sam let him turn around, Dean stares at his brother while testing the hard steel around his wrists. “Christo.”  
A deep chuckle comes from Sam at this, “Sorry, Dean; it’s just me in here.” Smirking now, crowding Dean back against the hard wood of the door, Sam moves his face in close, “Time you set some things straight, brother.”  
Oh fuck. He knows. He’s going to kill me, or dump my ass and leave again. Dean’s mind scrambles for a solution while his mouth continues to stall, “What things? And do we really need the cuffs, dude?” Trying to look innocent and knowing he won’t; hasn’t been able to pull off that sincere look of Sam’s since he was small.  
“Oh, I really think we do,” smirking now, looking more dangerous than Sam usually manages, even during a prank war; he tugs Dean off the wall and plants him bodily on the bed furthest from the door.  
“Sam, quit it with the pushing,” getting angry now, hoping that getting pissed enough will deter Sam from whatever conversation he has planned, Dean squirms on the bed to get a better position and looks at Sam towering above him.  
“I like pushing you around,” Sam grins wider, somehow looking happy and lethal at the same time, hand moving to toy with the button on his jeans, “I think maybe you like it too, Dean.”  
Swallowing hard, accepting the fact that he isn’t getting out of this with just a look, Dean tries to ignore the stirring in his gut at being in-line with Sam’s cock and completely at his mercy. “You wanted to talk?”  
A change comes over Sam at this; a stilling of his muscles while his mind makes a decision, “I have something better in mind now.” 

The hand that was idly playing with the button on his jeans suddenly pushes the metal through the denim before it slides the zipper down; Sam reaches his hand into his pants at the same time Dean realises he shouldn’t be letting this happen. “Sammy, what’re you doing?” Shifting awkwardly backwards on the bed, Dean doesn’t get far before Sam’s big paw comes down heavy on his shoulder to hold him in place.  
“Know what you want, Dean,” almost panting as he strokes his cock, pulling it from its cloth prison, Sam stops stroking long enough to push his trousers further down his legs before grasping it again. “Know what you want and I’m going to give it to you.”  
Starting to struggle against the hold Sam has on him, Dean knows that he’s giving himself away; flushed skin, mouth slightly open as he sucks in air, eyes riveted to the hold Sam has on himself. “No,” shaking his head, Dean tries to move back again, finds himself held tight by his brother, “No, Sa…” Sound cut off as Sam quickly transfers his hold to Dean’s jaw and holds his mouth open to accept the thick flesh pushing forward.  
Almost choking on the cock in his mouth and pulling against the hold on his face, Dean knows he won’t be able to hold out if he tastes Sam.   
“Know you want this, Dean,” moans Sam, pushing in further, “Know it was you today and the last time.” Shock stills Dean and he opens eyes he doesn’t even remember closing to peer up at Sam; sees the ecstasy and knowledge on Sam’s face as he looks back. “Know it was you,” pants Sam as he stops holding Dean’s face and starts stroking his jaw instead, “Wanted you for so long. Wanted…” Sam’s breath hitches in his chest as Dean relaxes his muscles and lets Sam’s hot flesh slide deeper, moaning softly at the taste. “Wanted to watch you like this,” continues Sam when he can talk again, “Watch you take me in. See how much you like doing this.”  
Dean allows his eyes to slide closed; lets himself get lost in the taste of Sam, in the feel of him heavy in his mouth. Moaning, Dean starts the slow slide off of Sam’s cock, tongue flicking the underside and teasing the head as he pulls back then away completely to look up at Sam through his lashes. Locking eyes with Sam, being sure he’s watching, Dean swirls his tongue around the swollen head of the flesh resting against his lush lower lip, feels Sam’s appreciation in the tightening of the hands that have twinned into his hair and the aborted thrust of his hips.  
“Dean. Dean, please,” Dean may be the one with the cuffs on but Sam is the one begging like a fifty cent hooker, “Please, Dean. Dean!” A yelp from Sam as Dean goes from teasing the head to sliding the hot silken dick down his throat as fast as he can; then he pauses. Nose pressed against Sam’s pubic hair, just enjoying breathing his brother in; Dean waits. Stillness as Sam recovers enough brain function to realise what Dean is waiting for, begging for, the only way he can; then movement as the hands in his hair hold Dean’s head steady as Sam pulls his cock from its moist home and returns it swiftly.  
Thrusting deeply, holding Dean’s head in his hands, groaning and grunting as if modern speech is lost to him; Sam feels Dean groan and give a full body shudder. The moment his disjointed thoughts register that Dean, totally controlled, always in charge Dean, has just come in his pants, Sam is lost. Two more quick, hard thrusts then Sam is coming in hot spurts into Dean’s mouth, hearing him moan as the flavour assaults his tastebuds.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finale. Thank you for paying attention til the end.

Collapsing on the bed next to Dean; gasping hard and feeling his brother just as short of air, Sam tries to calm his ragged thoughts. “Jesus,” Sam’s mind tries to fight past the misty haze still clinging to his vision, “Dean?” Nudging his still panting brother, trying to get his attention, Sam wonders if he went too far. “Dean?”  
“Cuffs, Sam,” the only response he seems to be getting at the moment, Sam pauses in his move for the key.  
“What are you going to do if I take them off, Dean?” Assessing, knowing he has about a snowball’s chance in hell if Dean decides to jump him, Sam watches Dean’s jaw clench.  
“Cuffs. Sam.” Right, on the other hand, a snowball can last a while if you give it a little hat. Sam reaches for the key he left in the bedside drawer.

Unlocking the warmed steel encircling Dean’s wrists, Sam shifts on the bed, preparing to run. Electricity in the air as he watches Dean rub chaffed skin and flex fingers gone slightly numb from the pressure; not really recognising it as a stalling tactic from his brother. “Dean?”  
“What, Sam?” Not gonna give him an out. He has to explain what the fuck just happened here.  
“You okay?” Silence as Dean stares at the floor, “Dean?”  
“You tell me, Sam,” voice coming out colder than he intended, Dean is not releasing the hold he has on himself at the moment.  
“Did…Did I hurt you?” Voice wavering at the thought he may have caused pain, may have done damage, “Dean, did…Do you want me to go?” Silence from Dean, not giving an inch, even his instinctual need to comfort Sam when he sounds so lost is quiet in this moment. “I’ll just…I’ll go. I’ll go,” movement as Sam gets up off the bed, starts for the door, “I’m sorry, Dean.”  
The harsh feel of his back smacking forcefully into the door and the solid feel of Dean’s body pushing against his is the first indication he has that Dean has moved from the bed.  
“You are not going anywhere until you explain,” lethal quiet in that voice pressed so intimately against his ear.  
“Ex…explain?” Voice stuttering at the abrupt change in Dean’s behaviour from just moments before, Sam is lost.  
“Explain how you knew and what possessed you to cuff me.”  
Trying to meet Dean’s eyes, Sam attempts to connect with his brother, to get a feel for his mood, for how far he can go; no one else can read Dean like Sam can. “I wasn’t possessed, Dean,” desperate to prove that point, Sam is almost ready to beg, “You already proved that when you walked in.”  
“Nice try, College-boy, but I didn’t mean that kind of possessed and you know it,” glaring at his brother’s attempt at getting out of this, Dean pins him harder to the door; moves his own lower body out of touching range to hide the fact that Sam has him hard again so soon, “How?”  
“I followed you,” Dean freezes at the damaging confession from Sam, “To the theatre. I thought…I knew it was you, the other day.”  
“How?” Calm being shaken; Dean knows he needs his answer soon, before he drops to his knees again.  
“Your jeans,” Sam swallows around the lump in his throat; Dean is listening to him, he has to make him see, “I saw your jeans under the partition after you’d…after we’d. There was an ash stain from the last salt and burn we did.”  
“Was that it?” Trying to maintain his control, Dean knows he’s failing, “Just the jeans?” God, Sam, please.  
Shaking his head, not trying to pull against the hold Dean has on his shoulders, “The noises you made,” Sam reddens as he says this, “When you were…when we…I could hear you.” Blushing brighter, Sam averts his eyes from Dean’s, “I know the sounds you make.”  
Thank you, God. Somewhat heartened by the blush, knowing it’s still his Sammy here, Dean relaxes his hold slightly, “You like the noises I make?” Pressing his mouth against Sam’s ear, breathing hotly into the skin, “You like it when I take you in?” A whimper as Sam’s eyes slide shut and he nods his head frantically is apparently the only answer Dean is going to get, “You want to hear me again? You want me on my knees again?”  
Sam’s eyes snap open and he pushes against the hold Dean has on him, “Only for me,” his eyes flashing in anger at the thought of Dean doing it for someone else, “Only ever me again.”  
“Possessive, little brother,” blatantly teasing now, Dean can’t help the rush of heat at the change in Sam. He wants this; wants me. “Want me back on my knees again, Sammy?”   
Sam lets out a whimpering groan at Dean’s offer, then he gets a tighter hold on himself; shaking his head, Sam tells Dean what he wants, “Want to kiss you, Dean,” looking him straight in the eyes, knowing this could be the only chance he gets; Sam is determined to make it good. “I want to lay you down and cover every inch of your skin. I want to make you feel it. I want to slide inside you every way I can.” Dean couldn’t help but gasp when Sam said he wanted to kiss him; but when he kept going, Dean was lost. Hold on Sam slackening, Dean stares into his brother’s eyes and sees the sincerity of his statement; sees the love for him. “I want you to know that every part of you is mine,” finishes Sam on a whisper before he captures Dean’s full lips with his own.

Always yours, Sammy. Tasting his brother, tasting the muted essence of Sam, Dean gives a whimpering groan he will completely deny later. Totally lost, shattered, broken on the altar of their shared need, Dean is remade by the loving hands of his brother pushing him onto the bed and Dean lets it happen, lets Sam take; lets Sam give.  
Laid out on the mattress under Sam’s hands and tongue, Dean has no memory of stripping or being stripped but he must have because he can feel every white-hot inch of beautiful skin slipping against his, tiny hairs catching each other as Sam writhes on top of him. Moaning at the feel of Sam’s tongue in his mouth while his own hands map out the gorgeous body that has long been his torment; living in close quarters, they can’t help but have looked, but to actually be allowed to touch; it almost melts Dean’s brain.

“Sam,” moaning as the slick, mobile feel of Sam’s tongue scores his neck, Dean tries again, “Sam.” Panting hard but intent on his goal, Dean pushes slightly and tries one last time, “Sammy.”  
“Dean,” moaned from the vicinity of his collarbone as Sam continues his tactile exploration.  
“Sam, stop,” feeling him pull up slightly, eyes meeting, breath catching in their throats at the feel of hard cocks colliding. “Inside me,” Dean pants softly, hearing Sam’s groan as the words register in his lust fogged brain, “Want…Want you inside.” God, please, Sammy, say yes.  
Stillness, time holding immobile as one brother studies the other then fast forwards into mouths crashing together, bodies meeting harshly.  
“Where?” Breathes Sam against Dean’s ear.  
“Side pocket. Oh fuck, Sam,” gasping for air as Sam’s teeth latch onto the flesh he was just mouthing and his hand reaches off the bed for Dean’s duffle. Growling softly in the back of his throat, Sam transfers his bruising mark of ownership to Dean’s neck as he palms the tube of lube and shifts his attention to the almost mindless man beneath him.

One slick finger sliding down his crack to tease the puckered opening has Dean arching off the bed only to be stopped and held firm by Sam’s hand on his abdomen; that same finger pushing steadily into his body has Dean struggling for air. Watching his big brother gasping for oxygen; pinned to the bed by his hands on and in him has Sam grappling for control of his own arousal. Needing to be inside before he comes, Sam replaces the one questing finger with two, moving them decisively inside Dean, stretching, getting ready for three, listening to Dean’s whimpers and shocked gasps of desire at the pleasure he is receiving. Three fingers inside now, purposely avoiding Dean’s prostate, Sam starts talking, “Gonna make you scream, Dean. Slide inside you so deep you’ll never get rid of the feel of me,” groans from the body riding his fingers turn to whimpering, broken pleading as Sam continues, “You gonna open for me, Dean? Let little brother inside your ass as beautifully as you let me into your mouth.”  
“Yes. Yes, oh fuck, Sam. Please, pl…” the fractured pleading spilling from his mouth is halted by a second of silence and then a scream as Sam strokes a finger over Dean’s prostate then swiftly uses his free hand to stem Dean’s orgasm at the base of his cock. “Please, Sam,” desperate, needing, “Sammy, please.”  
“Ssshh, Dean. I have you,” soothing motions from shaky hands.

Grappling with the condom he fished from Dean’s bag with one hand while still tormenting his brother with the other, Sam reflects in the one tiny part of his mind not burning with the need to be inside Dean that his brother has never looked more beautiful as he does now; splayed out, sweaty, flushed and begging.  
Finally getting the latex cover over his penis, Sam stills his fingers inside Dean and slides them free, action punctuated by a protesting groan from Dean. Hushing his brother with a soothing stroke to his trembling abdomen, Sam waits until Dean’s eyes refocus on his own before breaching his opening and beginning the smooth, hot slide into heaven. Eyes locked with Sam’s, watching the wonder, pleasure and love that is reflected back at him, Dean feels Sam hard and real inside of him; welcomes the pain at being taken and the twisting emotions as it turns to desire.  
“God, Dean. Feel so good. Better than your mouth, thought nothing could be but, oh god, so much better,” gasping, holding himself over and inside Dean, Sam can’t help but feel like this is a sacred experience.  
Breath hitching in his chest, trying to prevent the groan at Sam’s words, Dean clutches at Sam’s shoulders trying to ground himself, trying to keep from flying apart, wanting this one moment to last for eternity, “Sammy,” slight moan slipping into the word for his god, Dean allows a smirk to cross his face, “Move.” Sam’s answering grin is lost in the tumultuous action of bodies as they move against one another, connection that helps them on the hunt helping now to find a rhythm easily; both know this time won’t last long, both know there will be a next time. 

Guttural sounds escaping to join with the sounds of flesh striking flesh, Dean wraps his legs high around Sam’s waist and uses the leverage to pull him deeper; striking his prostate harder, again and again. A shuddering breath followed by a triumphant yell of Sam’s name is the only warning he receives before Sam feels Dean’s hot seed spill between their bodies; muscles shaking, rhythm lost, Sam succumbs to the clenching of Dean’s heat and plunges deep to claim his brother in every way.

*************

Collapsed together, muscles still shaking in the aftermath; Sam and Dean try to calm their ragged breathing as the reality of what they’ve done sinks in. His softening cock slipping wetly from the warmth and safety of Dean causes a soft moan of disappointment to leave Sam; he stills as an answering sound of protest escapes Dean. Eyes meeting, cheeks flushed from exertion and emotion, the Winchesters study each other; trying to ascertain if what happened has damaged something special. Seeing Dean, his no-chick-flick-moments big brother, looking as apprehensive and uncertain as he feels causes Sam to smile, drawing an answering shy smile from Dean.  
Moving forward slowly, giving him a chance to pull away, Sam kisses Dean soft and slow, everything the first time wasn’t. Pulling back only enough to see Dean’s eyes, he feels the slight movement of displaced air as Dean’s eyelashes flutter and he looks at Sam with all the love he never has the words to say.

“You know,” Sam smirks wickedly as he shifts his body off Dean a little, getting ready to move, “You know what I taste like; I haven’t had the chance to find out whether you taste as good everywhere.” Dean groans softly as he gets Sam’s meaning; feeling his brother planting small kisses down his chest towards his abdomen, small licking kisses and kitten soft strokes of his tongue clean Dean as Sam gets his fill. Sam’s tongue dipping wetly into his belly button to chase the last of the flavour causes Dean to emit an undignified, and totally deniable, squeak and try to shimmy away from Sam’s grasp.

Laughing at the noise Dean made, Sam rests his forehead on his brother’s, now lover’s, clean tummy and just breathes the scent of them together. Looking up from his resting place, Sam smiles softly at Dean, “I love you, you know.”  
Rolling his eyes slightly but smiling back, Dean replies, “I know, idiot; me too.”  
“What now?”  
A huffing breath from Dean causes Sam to shift his head slightly, “You’re the genius of the family.”  
“Dean,” knocking his nose against Dean’s chest, Sam waits for his answer.  
Sighing, knowing he isn’t getting out of this, Dean thinks for a minute, “We hunt, we live our lives,” a wicked look Sam is beginning to love crosses Dean’s features, “We make good use of roadside stops so I can suck your brain out through your cock.”  
Recovering from the shot of arousal that took his breath away, Sam laughs, then sobers, “Only ever me from now on, Dean.”  
“Sammy…”  
“I mean it, Dean,” Sam’s expression fierce.   
“I know,” looking at his scowling brother, Dean knows he has to venture into chick-flick territory, “Why would I want anyone else?”  
Sam blinks as the implications of that sinks in and then launches up to kiss Dean breathless, breaking off only when he has Dean moaning low in his throat. “Sounds perfect,” whispers Sam, “Why don’t we get some sleep then you can practice your technique. You always said I had a really large brain.” Grinning lewdly and feeling Dean stir beneath him, Sam laughs.  
“Bitch,” mutters Dean, reaching up to pull Sam down for a kiss.  
“Jerk,” counters Sam just as their lips touch.


End file.
